Rough Patches
by Melodious Rhapsody
Summary: AU. Heero is in a gang. Trowa is a French foreign student who moved to America with his father to further his studies in music. What happens when they cross paths? 1x3
1. Prologue: We walk the paths of darkness

~Rough Patches~

**Disclaimer: **GW does not belong to me. 

**Author: **Mel (MelodiousRhapsody)

**Length: **200+

**Pairing: **Eventual 1x3

**Warning(s): **There are scenes of molest, rape and violence, but none of them are graphic or explicitly described. I think I will not be able to handle them as well.If there are any more warnings needed, I will include them at the head of each chapter. Comments will be nice. 

**Summary: **AU. Heero is in a gang. Trowa is a French foreign student who moved to America with his father to further his studies in music. What happens when they cross paths?

**Prologue: We Walk the Paths of Darkness**

**Heero**

I stride through the front door of the god-forsaken dump of our current hideout and drop the wad of cash onto the crate serving as a makeshift table. The man I'd collected it from had wiped his snotty fingers on it before passing the stack to me. Damn druggie. Well, not like J knows that. The _King_ would have been most displeased, the way he was running his fingers through the sheaf of bills. Who cares?

Job done, I turn to leave. Only to be stopped by J's nasal voice.

"Knight." I tilt my body slightly towards him, listening. "A gang downtown challenged us to a one-on-one duel. You'll set them straight, right?"

I do not dignify him with an answer as I walk out of the room stinking of cigarette smoke.

I nod to the men following me and quash a little feeling of slight despair. They were so young. "Let's go."

**OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO**

**Trowa**

I step cautiously through the corridor to the living room. Not that anyone would hear me, but I do it anyway. This place has been home for a little under two weeks and though _he_ hasn't tried anything yet I do not want to take chances. I shiver just thinking about it. _He_ is lying passed out on the couch with beer cans and bottles littering the floor around his large bulk. I tiptoe around him picking up the trash and freezes when he shifts. I do not want to be in the same room as him when he is inebriated. Padding quietly into the kitchen, I grab some energy bars after disposing of the rubbish and go up to my room, closing the door. Dad doesn't like me to lock my door.

Shoveling the bar into my mouth, I start preparing for bed, pulling on some loose elastic pants and draping on a too-big shirt. Brushing my teeth quickly, I strain my ears for any signs of movement from below. Satisfied to not hear anything, I move back into my room and close the door once again.

I reach into the lowest drawer of my dresser, finding by touch the pair of scissors and ball of yarn. I just needed a warning system. Snipping off a length and replacing the rest I tie the beginning of the string to the handle of the drawer and the other to the leg of the bed frame, from there to my desk and finally to the back leg of my bed. That done, I climb under the covers and huddle with the wall against my back.

Before falling into an uneasy sleep, I send up a silent prayer.

_Maman, when will this end?_


	2. Trowa: It was a normal day

~Rough Patches~

**Summary: **AU. Heero is in a gang. Trowa is a French foreign student who moved to America with his father to further his studies in music. What happens when they cross paths?

Comments would be lovely.

**Chapter One: It was a normal day**

**Trowa**

I wake with the uncommon feeling of being completely at ease. The weird combination of light-heartedness that nothing would go wrong today and the anticipation that something would actually go _right_, for once. I have not felt this way in a long time, not since my mother died. She's been gone long enough that I have no qualms of thinking about it or telling anyone, – but only if they asked, I would not go around spreading it like juicy gossip – but that did not mean I did not miss her.

I shake my head minutely. Enough reminiscing. The past will always there but the present will never wait. Pushing myself up from the swaddle of blankets around me, I stretch, feeling the cold air travel along my arms and under the large shirt that was previously warm under the layers of blankets. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I shivered. I never did well with the cold, what with being asthmatic and too thin for my age and height; but more so than that, I wished for someone to take away the cold deep inside my heart. I dare not trust.

I jostle myself again from my thoughts – though it is quite normal for me, coming from someone who seldom spoke but had so much running through his head – and climb out of my warm nest, wincing at the cold wooden floor under my soles. It is then I notice that the snare I had laid out yesterday was still intact. That was right. I was not woken up at all last night. Thank whoever-it-may-be-that-is-up-there. _He_ did not come last night. Or at least, he did not do anything.

I will not think anymore on that matter. I roll up the string and put it back into the bottom drawer of my dresser. It may yet have more use tonight. Gathering some clothing – a T-shirt, jeans and a thick sweater with socks, I pause for a moment at the doorway before moving to the bathroom.

Absentmindedly, I run through the motions of my morning routine, standing under the cold spray that did much to wake me up fully and then trying to get out as soon as possible so as not to freeze. Jumping into my clothes, I remember that I did not hear anything going on downstairs. Dad must have gone to work, most likely. He had asked to be transferred to a branch here in New York the moment I had earned my scholarship to Julliard. It is odd that he would do that. But I am looking forward to continuing my studies on the flute. _Pour maman, pour moi_.

Walking swiftly back to my bedroom, I straighten the bedcovers and grab my flute as well as the music that I had been working on. Stopping to look at the picture of my mother on my desk, I whisper, _"__Maman, veille sur moi aujourd'hui, Je t'aime."_

**OOOoooOOO**

I was on the close-to-empty bus, huddled under a thick sweater and my long over coat, but I was still cold. Even with heat packs in my pockets my fingers were freezing. Well, at least I had them. If I did not, I am sure someone could cut off my hands and get away with it.

Nearly curled into myself, shuddering with the cold, I failed to realize that someone had sat next to me, causing the seat to tilt downwards together with me, by association. Curse me for being underweight. The person – who I now saw had blond hair – stopped me from moving anymore with an arm against my waist. He flashed me a smile and moved his arm so that I was wrapped under his armpit.

I should have known. The blond hair was like a beacon. And only one person would want to sit next to me, a miserable scrawny wretch.

"Good morning, Quatre."

He grinned, nearly blinding me with its megawatt intensity and bright white teeth. He finished folding himself onto the space next to me, rearranging his violin case that seemed far too small for his lanky frame and settled his backpack on his lap with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around me. It was hard to believe that this six feet two inches tall giant was once shorter than me. I was – _am_ – not considered short. Well, not _that_ short. Just that he grew taller than me.

"Hey there, little cousin."

I let a barely perceptible scowl tug at the corners of my mouth. Yes I was his cousin on my father's side, but I am not little!

"You seem to forget that you were smaller than me."

"Yes, but I now have the privilege of tucking you under my arm!" He crowed triumphantly. I thank the heavens privately that the bus was very nearly empty. I would have killed him and grilled him gruesomely otherwise. It is in his favor that he is warm too. I soak up the warmth he is emanating and relax for the remainder of the journey, staring out the window.

I am sure somewhere along the way I saw rich blue eyes that seemed to cut straight to my core.

**OOOoooOOO**

Lunch was a hurried affair, being that Professor Aberly wanted a few private words with me before my first after-lunch class. Quatre had warned me to be careful during our meal together, smirking as he told me that Professor Aberly had a preference for young, pretty boys. I rolled my eyes then, and I did it again. I only wondered if the Professor had some new piece he wanted me to look at.

I raised my hand to knock at the wooden door, but the door opened before I could do so. I cocked an eyebrow, contemplating fleetingly if Professor Aberly was psychic.

"Ah, Trowa, you have come."

"That's right, professor. Is there anything wrong?"

"Trowa, I would like you to take part in the International Flute and Piano competition."

"Bu… But that's in three week's time!"

**OOOoooOOO**

The rest of the day passed in a daze. The International Flute Competition? How could I ever measure up to that level? And in such a short time? Three weeks is not even enough to prepare for a private concert! I turned down the corner, heading towards home so I could drop off some of my things before heading out again to my part time job. Not for the first time, I wished that the bus could stop at individual houses. Quatre was suspiciously missing, but I cared not as he did it frequently. Besides, all that was on my mind now was just the competition.

Letting my bag land on the floor with a thump and tossing my flute onto the bed, I flopped down onto the only chair in the room and buried my fingers in my hair, forehead in my palms.

"_I had recordings made of your playing and sent them for the preliminary auditions. You have passed them! In three weeks time is the Concours. You will play then!"_

I sighed, loud even to my own ears and glanced down at my watch. I will be late if I do not leave now. What on earth was the Professor thinking!

**OOOoooOOO**

The music shop I worked at was only a street down from where I lived. However, it was in a part that was hounded by a gang that had staked its territory right up to the avenue that _Allegro_ was on. I had seen the gang at work before, in dark street corners and down creepy lanes. But as long as they are not right in front of me I will not do anything. Quatre always tells me to keep the hood of my sweater up and to try not to draw attention to myself. I must say I am good at that. I do not like people noticing me, anyway. My dad often offers to walk me home from work but I try to think of excuses to refuse him. He poses a larger threat than walking home in the dark by myself.

I nod at Sally as I pass her behind the counter. Walking to the 'staff only' back area of the store, I store my bag and flute into the locker labeled with my name and went back out front to see what needed to be done today.

Sally greets me with a smile as she always does – for the two weeks that I was here, at least; unperturbed that I did nothing in return, already used to my quiet – no, silent – ways. She motioned me with a tilt of her chin towards the scores section and I somehow knew that it would be in a mess.

"Punks came in today and flipped through the books but did not bother to put them back into the right places. Irritating and immature bunch of adolescents. Why couldn't they be more like you?" She lamented.

I snort lightly. If everyone were like me the world would be a very boring place indeed. I shook my head as I got to work. I am nothing if not a hard worker, and soon everything was put to rights.

Digging out my flute from where I had stashed it, I set it up and warmed it up, running through with some scales and arpeggios, before settling to play one of my most recent compositions.

I closed my eyes as the music swelled and dipped, bringing me to a whole new world of my own. I wanted to remain there for as long as I could, where nothing could hurt me.

_Mère, tu me manques.. _

Translations:

Pour maman, pour moi: For mama, For me.

Maman, veille sur moi aujourd'hui, Je t'aime.: Mama, watch over me today. I love you.

Mère, tu me manques..: Mother, I miss you.

Please note, all translations are from a web translator. You are welcome to correct me if there are any mistakes. Also, with regard to Music Competitions, I am not very sure how everything runs. Therefore, I am taking great liberty in deciding what happens at Music Competitions. Please forgive any oversights on my part.


	3. Heero: A normal start to a shitty day

~Rough Patches~

**Summary: **AU. Heero is in a gang. Trowa is a French foreign student who moved to America with his father to further his studies in music. What happens when they cross paths?

**Warnings: **Not exactly warnings but some things I think you would like to know. Mentions of 1+6, MeiranX5 and 1XR. Racism and well, angst.

Thanks for the feedback. Further comments would be lovely.

**Chapter Two: A normal start to a shitty day**

**Heero**

"_I'm sorry."_

It's yet another day, another hour. Glancing at the packet of white powder I held, I snarl in distaste and stash it into my pocket. My task is only to deliver it to the person who requested it, and collect the money. Dirty job. I growl again and a petite girl that walked past me immediately moved a few steps away, darting nervous glances at me. I bare my teeth savagely and pick up my pace. The faster I got it done, the better.

I stand at the deserted road junction, arms folded across my chest. Dumb-ass guy supposed to be here by now, and now I've to wait. Irritating as hell. Did everyone think that just because I run drugs I had nothing else to do? Maybe I don't but it's none of their shit-in' business.

A truck pulls up next to me and a lightly trembling pale hand emerges from the half open window, holding a stack of notes between two fingers. I drop the packet I had with me into the outstretched palm and snatch the wad in the same action. The fingers wave at me jauntily and withdraw, the truck leaving few moments later. Assholes.

Now to get the money to King.

**OOOoooOOO**

I stride in through the door of the dump again and am struck by a sense of déjà vu. Wasn't it a few days ago that I walked in through the damn door and got sent away with orders to settle some fight? I rotate my right shoulder lightly. Still felt the bruises. Just like the other day, I drop the stack of notes on the table, the only exception being that there was close to nobody at the makeshift table. Only King sat there, lazily smoking a stinking cigarette and Bishop at his side eyeing me disdainfully.

"Handsome's back, huh? Let's see what he has brought back for us today. After all we are bored out of our minds while the others are out _patrolling_."

Patrolling my ass. More like tormenting. Some poor soul out there is getting beaten to within an inch of their life. I may be in a gang but I have my principals that I stand by. I don't need to agree with everything they do. And I don't.

Bishop pitches in, "And I bet Knight here is aching to get into the action, seeing that he gets none." He is such a pain in the butt. Fortunately for him (and me), I've gotten used to having stuff that hurt me on my butt. He sneers, normally average face twisting into a semblance of a monster. And that's what he is. Scheming little shit.

King smirks and quashes the end of his cigarette under his boot. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Lacing his fingers under his chin like he was praying, he tells me, "Knights protect the honor of their kings. Someone has pushed that a little too far. Settle it." He slides a piece of yellowed paper across the crate and nods for me to pick it up. I do and find an address and time on it.

"End it quick."

**OOOoooOOO**

I get into my trusty carriage (Knights have horses, though) and drive home. There is some time before I've to meet the person at the deserted warehouse. Relena and I used to spend our time there together until she miscarried. Her child. No, _our_ child. And now, I'm just stuck in this f*ckin' rut of my life and unable to find direction for myself: nothing to live for, nothing to protect.

We were always together, the three of us, but I guess that time is no longer here, because of the two big mistakes I've made. Stupid head or stupid heart, I can't tell. Love the brother, sleep with the sister. Damn right smart. Now Mil is somewhere out there and Relena is holding her grudge at the side of… I can't say the name. Damn me.

I squeezed the steering wheel tightly, gritting my teeth and wishing with all my heart that I could turn back time. That I would make better choices, then I wouldn't lose the one I loved and another that was closest to my heart. Now there is no purpose, and so my heart is dead. Stone cold dead.

Reaching the hovel I called home, I slammed the door behind me and flopped heavily on my bed. I think it's apt to collapse soon.

_How can I stop this? I'm sick of this shit! Get me out, someone. _

On my way home I think I spotted a slender form with auburn hair half hanging over an exquisite face.

**OOOoooOOO**

I think I fell asleep. Loud pounding on my door startled me and I was disorientated for a few moments.

I groan and throw a shoe at the door to shut the people outside my door up. Satisfied when the noise stopped, I strap my knives onto my belt and tuck one into my left boot. I had left them on. Small wonder my toes were stiff. Walking to the door and tossing my shoe back to the bedside, I open it and find Kin and a few other men outside.

"Yo, boss. We've got work to do."

I close the door harder than I needed to.

**OOOoooOOO**

I step into the warehouse alone. The guys were waiting out back in case something went wrong. Walking forward steadily, I wait for the other party to show up.

Looking around me, I take in the familiar surroundings and feel my heart clench.

That was the spot where the three of us first met. It was at this very position that Relena and I shared our first kiss. This was the place where I first realized I was in love, Mil's figure outlined by the honey-gold rays of the sun… It was here that I told Mil of my love for him, afraid he would reject me, but even more afraid that he would _leave_. And he did.

It's been too long since I've been here, but I can't let it distract me from my mission now.

I scan the place again, seeing nothing but the dim shapes of large containers by the shafts of moonlight streaming in through the large windows. Maybe J was just being deluded and paranoid again, seeing everything as threats.

Maybe not.

Without warning, a punch is thrown at the back of my head. I didn't hear anyone come up, but instincts and the slight rush of air told me to duck. I do so, and twist so I am facing my assailant. A long braid and dimly glowing violet eyes greet me. His lips curved into a maniac grin and I am just in time to fend off another strike aimed for the left of my face.

A widening of the grin was all the warning that I got. My attacker goes into such frenzy that I am hard pressed to keep up. Almost. I manage to block most of the blows and when I saw an opening, I took it. Swinging my fist upwards hard, I catch the man under his chin, bashing his jaw into his skull, jarring his teeth harshly. That's his surprise back to him. He spits and I see his saliva is tinged with red. Bitten himself. Good. Maybe he would take that hint and leave our fucking territory alone.

The foolish man grins again.

"Nice ta meetcha! Name's Duo! Duo Maxwell."

So cheery. I don't know what possessed me to reply.

"Yuy."

"Now that we know each other, let's start our time together properly."

Must he take it so lightly?

He rushes at me, oddly colored eyes gleaming faintly in the dark warehouse. Why can't he just learn the lesson and go? I'm sick and tired of fighting.

Another flurry of punches. I block them all deftly and throw a few of my own back. It never feels good when I hit someone else. I hurt, too. Let's end this soon. I seized the opportunity to slug him across his right cheek and jaw and then dazed him with a sound crack to the back of his head. He topples hard onto the concrete and lies still for a long moment. Mission accomplished. I doubt he will want to mess with us any longer. I turn and start to walk out of the warehouse.

It's not been a few steps before a hoarse voice stops me.

"Bastard. You killed my best friend's baby. His wife is in a coma. You murderer. Your goons have done irreparable damage, do you know? An innocent woman and child, just because she was Chinese and unable to fight back!"

His voice reaches a crescendo in the middle of his speech and cracks at the end. I stop walking but do not turn. What's all this he's accusing me of?

"My… goons?"

"Don't fucking pretend you don't know! You people cornered 'Fei's wife and beat her up. She was pregnant! And she did not do anything to you! Why did you do that? How could you?"

His question ends in a plaintive cry, leaving him in harsh, wrecking sobs that hurt me to hear.

"I… apologize. But leave us alone."

That said, I walked on.

**OOOoooOOO**

I left the warehouse in a daze, unable to quite believe that the gang had caused such a problem, unable to understand why. Kin and the others had followed me for a bit before I waved them off, saying that it was settled. They had seemed bewildered but I'd more pressing issues on my mind. Were we all racist bigots? That we could actually do something like that and live as though it was all okay?

I couldn't understand it at all.

My head was running around in circles but my legs refused to carry me anymore. I came to a stop outside a warm cozy-looking shop that housed violins, cellos and flutes in the main display. I leaned against the glass as though it could grant me some warmth from inside, but all I felt was my heart getting colder.

Then from the shop I heard strains of a melody. So fleeting, so fragile, so hopeful. Numb, I slide down to land my butt on the cold stone path that was as cold as my heart.

_Could something – anything – warm me up?_


End file.
